TULTHUS
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physical statsSex: N/A
Race: Warforged Class: Barbarian Age: 7 Height: 6'6 Weight: 298 lbs. Eyes: Crimson Hair: N/A
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BIO AND BACKSTORY
Nothingness, a spark, energy... feeling? Coherency, sentience, then knowledge and skill.
Tulthus came into being after a long day's craft under house Cannith, just like any other warforged. He was constructed for a purpose, molded with monetary gain in mind, but sold into a profession of warfare.
He was to outperform any frontline, diving headlong into the fray and not relenting his assault until either his opposition were brought low, or he was. Taught to flail his double axes in-and-out, rending asunder both shields and the users behind them.
Most would file this under barbaric rage, however, Tulthus feels not the exhilarating joy of carnage, just the satisfaction of getting his job done. This particular warforged is literal, loyal, obedient, and unafraid.
Once sold to Breland before Cyre's untimely destruction, he was filled with purpose and meaning, yet when the war ended and the treaty granting him freedom was signed, he was at a loss. No orders? No war? That was his duty, his life.
Years passed and Tulthus wandered, unsure of where to go, hoping that on his ventures a competent general would swoop in and guide him towards battle. Luck is funny that way, having literally bumped into a recruiter of House Deneith soon after.
The two traded indentities, stories, and best of all, proposals. The man informed him of the need for mercenaries under many different jobs. Not only could the mechanical soldier do what he enjoyed most, but get paid for it as well.
With nary a whim to lose he signed up on the spot, went into training, and began his new path down the road of muscled assistance... which just so happened to be aiding small group of adventurers.
Tulthus came into being after a long day's craft under house Cannith, just like any other warforged. He was constructed for a purpose, molded with monetary gain in mind, but sold into a profession of warfare.
He was to outperform any frontline, diving headlong into the fray and not relenting his assault until either his opposition were brought low, or he was. Taught to flail his double axes in-and-out, rending asunder both shields and the users behind them.
Most would file this under barbaric rage, however, Tulthus feels not the exhilarating joy of carnage, just the satisfaction of getting his job done. This particular warforged is literal, loyal, obedient, and unafraid.
Once sold to Breland before Cyre's untimely destruction, he was filled with purpose and meaning, yet when the war ended and the treaty granting him freedom was signed, he was at a loss. No orders? No war? That was his duty, his life.
Years passed and Tulthus wandered, unsure of where to go, hoping that on his ventures a competent general would swoop in and guide him towards battle. Luck is funny that way, having literally bumped into a recruiter of House Deneith soon after.
The two traded indentities, stories, and best of all, proposals. The man informed him of the need for mercenaries under many different jobs. Not only could the mechanical soldier do what he enjoyed most, but get paid for it as well.
With nary a whim to lose he signed up on the spot, went into training, and began his new path down the road of muscled assistance... which just so happened to be aiding small group of adventurers.